


And Let Me Listen

by Losille



Series: Talk to Me Like the Rain... and Let Me Listen [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losille/pseuds/Losille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terrified that her more-than-friendly feelings won’t be reciprocated, Lauren attempts to ignore Tom.  Fortunately, Tom doesn’t take “no” for an answer.</p><p>SEQUEL to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1072268">Talk to Me Like the Rain</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Let Me Listen

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Talk to Me Like the Rain. You will need to read it before this one. My many, many thanks to everyone who read Talk to Me—you are the reason this sequel exists, because I was just going to leave it like that. But you convinced me to write a sequel. I do not intend to write any more with Lauren and Tom, but I never say never. Thank you for your amazing support! :D

Not for the first time in the last month, Lauren found herself sitting numbly in her darkened office after a very long day of making rounds and delivering babies and performing surgeries. On normal days, she would wind down by entering information into patient charts, writing letters and filling out other paperwork required of her position at the hospital, but she needed nothing short of a miracle to wrest herself from the mesmerized stupor she fell into watching a blinking cursor on her computer screen.

Nothing seemed to be normal of late, especially not after the very strange afternoon with Tom. She felt discombobulated. Out of sync with her life. She knew it had everything to do with the fact that she hadn’t talked to him in all that time, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually pick up her mobile and call him like she’d said she would. And he hadn’t seemed that concerned about it either, because her phone had remained peculiarly silent and her email inbox empty.

For all of their thirty-three years on the planet, they had made a point of calling or seeing each other once a week. Even when he was away in the remotest parts of the world filming, he’d find a way to give her a call or send her an email just to let her know he was still alive, but incredibly busy. When he was in town, they met for a meal at least once and called more often. There had never been a time when they hadn’t spoken to each other except that one time when they had shared a flat at Cambridge. They’d had a fight about doing the washing up in a timely fashion, but their silence had only lasted for a good ten days before they’d broken down into a mutual fit of laughter over something else and started talking again.

The month had been weird. And lonely. All she wanted was her best mate back, and a friendship in the same state it had been before he’d asked her to run lines with him. Was that too much to ask?

A knock, however, on her office door fortunately interrupted her cursor-staring stupor and she looked up at the offended wooden blockade. “Yes?”

“It’s Alistair,” said the smooth voice on the other end of the door.

“Come in,” she replied, turning in her swivel chair and attempting, albeit halfheartedly, to make the desk look somewhat organized. Dr. Alistair Blackwell was known for his fastidiousness, and she couldn’t afford him seeing how disorganized she had become.

The door creaked opened to reveal the handsome older man with short brown hair and silver shot through it. He adjusted delicate gunmetal grey glasses rested on his long, thin Patrician nose as he shut the door behind him. He carefully sat in one of the chairs facing her desk, arranging himself in the slow moving imperiousness that had always bothered her since she had signed on to work under him. While he may have been one of the preeminent women’s health physicians in the world, and she had learned a lot, she had never particularly warmed to him due to mannerisms like this one.

He said nothing but placed a letter on the desk and slid it toward Lauren. An instant cool sweat broke out on her skin as she read the return address. After living in purgatory for months over her application to the GMC about being granted membership in the Specialist Register, it seemed so anticlimactic to receive a letter like this despite Blackwell’s gravitas. Whenever she had inquired about it, they simply repeated the same line that they were still conducting their investigation of her application.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Alistair asked.

She reached for the paper and smoothed it with her fingers. “I don’t know if I want to see what’s inside.”

Alistair gave her a half smirk. “Well, if you don’t, I will. You’ve been waiting months for this.”

Lauren breathed in and as she exhaled, ripped her finger through the top of the envelope. She pulled out the letter and began to read, but only got as far as the first line before she squeaked.

“Well, thank god!”

Alistair chuckled reservedly and shifted in his seat. “Congratulations, Dr. Heatherington.”

“Thank you!” she said. “Oh! I’ve got to ring my da. He’ll be so relieved.”

He nodded his head. “I’m sure he will. We were just chatting about it the other day over lunch.”

Lauren pursed her lips and sighed. She hated that her father’s influence had helped her gain the position as one of Blackwell’s specialty registrars, but at the moment, she could have cared less.

Alistair sighed and pointed to the letter. “But are _you_ relieved?”

“You have no idea,” she replied. Now she could stretch her wings a little bit. She was no longer someone’s student. She was a fully fledged consultant capable of doing her own work and managing her own staff. It felt like freedom. But something about the news made her less than happy, because the first person she would have told about her promotion wasn't available.

The good doctor stood from his seat and held out his hand. She fumbled around and stood quickly to shake it. “Welcome to the club, Doctor.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied.

“Go home. Celebrate. I’ll see you on your next shift.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, looking back down at the letter sitting on her desk. She had to call everyone. She had to call her father. And her mother... and her brothers and sisters. And her friends. Oh, goodness, she had to call Tom. He was the reason she had finally submitted the application, after all. He’d convinced her she was ready.

But reality slammed into her as she thought about it. She couldn’t just call him out of the blue after a month and gloat. It would be weird.

So she didn’t call anyone. Instead, she packed everything up and left the hospital in a rush to go get something to eat followed by a walk home and a very long, hot bath. She would have time to let everyone know the news over the next three days off of work. Maybe by then Tom would give her a call anyway, and it wouldn’t matter.

For expediency’s sake, Lauren chose the Chinese restaurant nearest her hospital. They claimed the best cuisine in the city, which she had to admit was fairly true because she and Tom had done their fair share of research at this particular restaurant. Being that it was close to the hospital and their meals were so often taken during her shifts, it was the ideal place.

She stepped into the warm restaurant and pull off her scarf as the people ahead of her were seated in a booth near the hostess stand. When the young woman returned to take her back, a smile lit her face.

“Dr. Heatherington! So good to see you!” she smiled. “You here for Tom?”

“No, just me,” Lauren said.

“But Tom is here,” she replied.

Her stomach dropped and her heart skipped a beat. “He’s what?”

She must have seen the pain on her face, because the girl’s expression turned to one of concern. “Oh! You have fight?”

“Not exactly,” Lauren frowned. Frankly, that was what she feared the most. A fight. And potentially leaving the conversation without a lover _or_ a friend.

“You come back!” she said. “He just order. Come back with him. Chinese food always make it better.”

Lauren couldn’t help but smile. The hostess was such a lovely lady, but for the first time in a long time, Lauren doubted the healing powers of the cuisine. Still, she found herself slowly following the woman through the restaurant and into a somewhat secluded area in the back where the staff always sat them because of Tom. It allowed them enough privacy away from the masses and they were hardly ever interrupted by fans unless the restaurant was busy and they required use of the other tables in the room.

He sat in the back circular booth, but Lauren didn’t see him until she came around the corner, hidden as he was with the high-backed cushion. His hands fiddled with a chopstick wrapper as he intently and precisely folded it, but lifted his head instantly when she appeared in front of him. In that moment of surprise, there was so much unguarded emotion on his face that she didn’t know what to focus on. He seemed excited, wary, sad and nervous all at the same time.

But it was the breathy “Lauren” that fell out of his mouth that made her body groan with need.

He shot up from his seat and hugged her close. Lauren stood still, unable to maneuver her arms out of his hold to hug him back. The strength of his hug surprised her, but not as much as the length of it. They’d hardly ever strayed from the physicality of a friendship—hugging, little touches here and there, pecks on cheeks—but it had never felt like this in the past. He clung to her body as if letting her go would mean she would disappear again.

Unfortunately, Lauren wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t.

“Sit!” commanded the hostess, breaking the moment. “Food will come soon.”

Tom inched back from Lauren and looked over her face, but she quickly dodged meeting his gaze. For the first time in thirty-some years, she had to admit she was uncomfortable around him.

Tom stepped back and motioned for Lauren to slide in first. He followed and came to a rest near her, but not exactly touching, before he reached for the pot of hot tea to pour her a cup. They sat in silence.

What did one say to a friend one had known for their entire life, but now the friend seemed like a completely unknown entity? It felt like a blind date. The awkward greeting, the awkward silence, the equally awkward niceties.

“Are you off?” he asked noncommittally.

“I am,” she replied. “You don’t have any plans tonight?”

“No.” He scratched at the beard on his cheeks.

Lauren loved the beard when he grew it in, but didn’t know if she would love it as much were she making love to him. The thought passed through her head quickly, but the blush that resulted was quite delayed. She ducked her head and placed a hand on the cheek nearest him so he couldn’t see it. It would be mortifying to explain.

“Why’d you come all the way over here?” she asked.

He swallowed. “Can’t I come over here for food?”

“You live and work nowhere around this side of town,” she replied. “You would only come over here for me.”

A heavy beat of silence followed as he stared at her. It seemed as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. So she filled the silence.

“Dr. Blackwell just gave me my Register acceptance letter,” she said.

“Really?” he exclaimed. “Congratulations! Why didn’t you say straight away? That’s pretty important!”

She glanced at him and pursed her lips. Then she shrugged and they lapsed into silence again. A server appeared with the food Tom had ordered, which was enough to feed an army, but likely wouldn’t fill even one of his hollow legs completely. Luckily for him, she felt fairly certain she wouldn’t be eating much of it.

But they went through the process of organizing their plates, fixing rice and meting out portions of beef and broccoli and spicy chicken and vegetable dumplings. She picked at her plate for some time while they ate in silence, but the tension had grown unbearable. Since when couldn’t they talk about anything and everything? Why couldn’t she just find something to say? Why couldn’t she bring herself to tell him how she felt?

After his first helping, he sat back in his seat and sighed. “I came all the way over here for _you_.”

She gulped down some tea to occupy herself.

“I’ve been coming over here for the past month on the off chance that I could catch you here, or getting coffee in the little cafe across the street, knowing the path you take to the tube,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

His face fell. “I thought it was obvious.”

Lauren’s tongue felt like lead in her mouth. She wanted to say something, but she was paralyzed.

“I love you,” he said. The firmness in his voice made her gasp. There would be no doubting the truth of the statement.

She closed her eyes at the words and shifted uncomfortably away from him.

“No!” His voice commanded was enough to make her freeze in her spot, even if his hands grabbing hers hadn’t. “You’re going to sit here and you’re going to listen to me. And then you’re going to talk, and I’m going to listen. We haven’t done enough talking or listening lately.”

She darted a gaze at him, seeing the seriousness on his face. There would be no escaping him.

“Now,” he said, breathing out and sighing. “I love you, Lauren. I know it must be so bloody difficult for you to hear, but I. Love. You.”

The way he punctuated the last bit made her shiver.

“I know you do,” she uttered.

He made a censuring sound in his throat. “No talking, _listen_.”

“But—”

He glared at her. She drew two fingers across her lips as though zipping them.

“Thank you,” he said, and quickly regrouped. “You are my life, Lauren. I know things didn’t go very well for us when we were reading those lines, but... you _are_ my whole life. Don’t ever doubt that you aren’t.”

He paused to sip his tea for a moment before continuing. “And I’ve been coming over here at least once a day trying to find the courage to go into the hospital and sweep you off your feet, but something always stops me. I always chicken out. And I don’t know why, because I’ve never felt like that before. I’ve never worried about getting something done that needs to be done. I’ve never run out of something to say. But with you, I’m useless. All words, all actions, fail me. I just couldn’t seem to find the right way to adequately express myself.”

Lauren played with one of her chopsticks to occupy her hands. She hoped that the little piece of wood would channel her emotions and take them away. The last thing she wanted was to break down in front of the man, as much as hearing these words were like a balm to her wearied soul.

“We reached the point where every time things started to heat up, you would run away from me,” he said. He scrubbed a hand over his face and his hair, displacing the gelled curls. One bit popped out and landed on his forehead. “And I was confused. I didn’t understand it. The way you would run away, I thought you didn’t care about me the same way or it was like you were scared. I didn’t want to air my feelings because I didn’t want to get hurt again—and, well, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

She finally looked up at him, struggling to hold back the tears in her eyes. She could only imagine how difficult it was for the most loquacious man in the world to lose the ability to communicate in that way.

“I thought you were playing with me,” she announced over the lump in her throat. “I thought it was all a game to you. Because you do that. You go along and you play with women and you flirt and they all fall in love with you. You’ve done that since we were in nappies together and you charmed the nanny out of everything. You do it to get something and then you leave them in your wake trying to pick the pieces back up again.”

He sighed. “All I wanted was you.”

“But you’ve had me! Right here. For thirty-three years,” she exclaimed, tears filling her eyes. “Don’t you get that? _All these thirty-three years._ The minute you swaggered into my life with Paddington Bear under your arm and your thumb in your mouth, I was lost.”

“I _gave_ Paddington to you, if I recall,” he said with a note of fondness in his voice. “That should have meant something. I loved that bear more than myself and I gave it to you for safekeeping.”

Lauren ran a hand through her hair and then folded her arms on the table in front of her. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

“Because I didn’t want to wreck what we had,” he replied. “I made the decision when you first started pulling away to do your own thing that I would rather have you as a friend with my feelings unrequited than not have you at all with my feelings known, but still unrequited. I didn’t know what you would say and I didn’t want to risk it.”

She bent over and rested her forehead on her hands.

“And then our careers got away from us,” he said. “Being on call became a convenient excuse for you to leave me.”

“You were always off on some press tour or filming some movie,” she replied. “I’m not the only one to blame here.”

He nodded forlornly. “I didn’t know how, even if all the stars aligned and we could be together, how we could actually _be_ together. We hardly saw each other there for a few years between all of our commitments. So I just didn’t do anything.”

It was everything she had always wanted to hear and never wanted to hear. The confirmation of his feelings and the realization that even with a mutual love, it probably wouldn’t work. Of course she knew that was why she had protected herself for so long. Why she had chalked up his actions to be nothing more than his natural flirtatiousness. But now she couldn’t. Now she knew the truth. And it was more painful than she had ever imagined it would be.

“When I had you read lines with me,” he said, “it was a safe place, for me. We could play within the confines of the characters. I could touch you like I wanted to touch you... with the emotion behind it that I wanted...”

Lauren lifted her head and looked at him. “I was never in character, Tom. I can’t do that. You were playing with _me_.”

“I realize that now,” he replied. “And I’m sorry.”

She blew out a puff of air and shook her head.

“Is there any hope for us?” he asked finally. Hopefully.

Lauren met his gaze. “I don’t know, Tom.”

He hung his head and played with his napkin. “If I can’t have you that way, can’t we just be friends again?”

“We’d never get back to that, Tom. It’ll still be the giant elephant in the room,” she said. “It’ll just get more and more awkward with each new meeting until we don’t talk anymore. We’ll question every touch and comment and it’ll just be too painful...”

“I can’t survive without you, Lauren,” he replied. “Don’t do this to us.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be so dramatic. You would survive.”

He reached out for her, physically turning her in the booth until she faced him. Lauren let him do it, but found it difficult to meet his eyes after her comment. She didn’t know why she had said it. Of course she wanted it to work and she knew she wouldn’t survive without her other half—her partner in crime—in her life, but there were too many things—

The thought evaporated when his hand pressed up on her chin until she was forced to look at him. His eyes were so blue and yet so dark that it stole her breath and any forward thinking capability. Her heart thumped painfully against her chest, seeing the need there in his gaze. _Good god._ She loved him. She had always known, but she still couldn’t say it. She just couldn’t...

His lips covered hers an instant later, searing the flesh and sending fire spiraling through her body. She grabbed at his shoulders for purchase in the swirling tide of her emotions just before tidal wave of need hit her like a freight train, making her gasp and allowing him a moment to sweep his tongue just inside her mouth. His hands dove into her hair, twining in the fine strands and tugging her head back as his body shifted closer to her. Warmth and muscle and man enveloped her, filling her every sense. It was all too much.

Especially right here in the middle of the restaurant.

She teased her fingers up his neck and held his face between her hands, rubbing her palms for just a moment on his cheeks to confirm the bristly nature of his beard. He shifted back as she pushed away from him.

“I, uh,” she said, her voice catching in her breathlessness. She had always thought kissing him would be like kissing her brother. But it wasn’t. It was the very opposite of what kissing her brother would be like. She had the lack of oxygen and blood rushing in her ears and the damp between her thighs to prove it.

He grabbed her hands again so she would stop inching toward the edge of the booth and her escape. “Lauren, don’t leave me again... _ever_ again. I beg you.”

She closed her eyes and hung her head. How could she leave him? He wasn’t acting. He was Tom, and _Tom_ was in love with her. Still, thirty-three years was a long time to wait for it to come out of his mouth, even if her actions had been a part of the reason he had kept silent. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt. She owed it to him after all those times she’d stopped him from professing himself.

“I... won’t,” she muttered, scooting back over the cushion and into his arms. He felt warm and solid, and she could hear his heart hammering in his chest when she rested her head against him. “I won’t leave you.”

She felt tension in his body release as his arms tightened around her. Soft lips brushed along her hairline. “Will you come home with me?”

Lauren swallowed and sat up.

His eyebrows rose in question. “Please?”

“Y-yes,” she replied, leaning in and pressing a slow kiss to his lower lip. “I’d like to go home with you.”

The grin on his face was instantaneous.

"Just don't ever make me read lines with you again."

Tom laughed. "That's a promise I don't intend on breaking.  You're a much better physician than an actress."

She smacked his arm playfully, the normality of her life suddenly returned.  It felt as though the vehicle that had been lurching to stop had found its power elsewhere.  And she was content.

For Tom's part, he wasted no time in flagging down the server to pay for the meal and to box up the rest of the food for when they were hungry later.


End file.
